The Eagle
by TheBlackBane
Summary: Male Reader x Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. You are a skilled man, chasing your own targets, but you have no affilliation with the Assassins. However, you soon come to realize you have memory loss, and you may aswell have been a Master Assassin from the order, years and years ago. Altaïr is rather troublesome, but you two have the same goal - and training from him may just be beneficial..
1. Chapter 1

_**The Eagle**_

It was a considerably chilling evening as the gushes of wind ran through the trees settled in Masyaf, posing little green in the otherwise drought town that was depraved of such, granting it with a rather desert-like appearance, which did little to contribute to the change of temperature that was inconsistent like the sea. The dawning heat upon the light of day that prolonged untill late in the evening before a cold breeze swept through the frigid buildings. You were seated atop of a roof, somewhere near the imposing castle that proved to be home to the assassins, glancing across its towering height and fascinating architecture. You were certain that it was cleverly build, for there was only one way in, and that was through the mountainpath that proved to be exhausting for those doing little exercise, leave be a horde of templars daring to engage war.

The assassins were feared by many, but it was also more fact than question that they protected the weak, and slaughtered the ones that dared to oppose such a humane rule. Your trail of thoughts continued as you rubbed your left arm, twirling your digits in the light black fabric that hugged your form. It was considerably comfortable, light, but simultaneously padded, and offered resistance to the cold at nights such as these. The thought of ever being with the assassins was alluring, but the fear behind such a commitment washed away the tempation, though you could not stop imagining to be near them, the skills they possessed, the subtle charms, and the little they needed to do for their silver tongue to work, it was truly magnificent, you envied them, if just a little. Your nights often passed like this, sitting atop of roofs, enjoying the starry nightsky, and watching the people pass by that never saw you. All of the men and women were caught in their own routine, even at night the town seemed full of life.

You were a young adult, but you were equally trained as the assassins in the castle, this you proudly told yourself, even if you were not arrogant, you simply knew you were more than adequate to face one in combat, not doubting your victory. Regardless, you were not part of the assassins, you were a simple citizen, for all they knew. You had made your own outfit, having learned at a young age by your father how to craft such, it led upto this, a black outfit, with padding, a red sash around your waist, reinforced by a leather belt underneath and small throwing knives attached to it. You had plenty of room for more equipment, if the need came, but for now, you settled with what you had: a longsword, throwing knives, and your own bare hands. Black certainly blended more with the night, which was an advantage to you as you eventually slipped down from the roof, subtly ending up on the sandy ground as your eyes glanced around, seperating individuals as they perused all that was in your periciphal.

Lately, you heard rumors of a man selling contraband, and you had tailed him for quite a while, gathering information through a period of patience, and eventually it all came to this, the restraint would eventually reward you, for you cannot solely strike one for assumptions or rumors that may have been fabricated to benefit someone else, to let them leave the bad light they were put in. Your feet glided across the pavement, the gushes of wind passing the black hood that framed your features, keeping sand from intruding your vision. It was difficult to see clearly with all of the individuals passing by, but it provided to be opportunity to cloak you as you blended in perfectly, drawing less attention, and it would give you more chance to seize the man that had committed such atrocities. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you followed, subtly so, following the long street in Masyaf before the man took an abrupt turn to the right, venturing into a building that lay quite remote, and posed to be a merchant's store, and you knew something was not right, it felt ominous and a shiver ran down your spine.

Nearing closer, the building appeared almost impenetrable, it had barely any windows you could slip into, and there was no open roof either. The only way in, and out, was the door, which may provide to be problematic. Softly, you breathed through your nose, lips pressing together as you approached, following swiftly after your target. What you observed within those walls was absolutely horrifying- there were several women shackled to the wall, covered in little rags of clothing that only just covered the neccesary parts- but the worst of all, they were all covered in painful bruises and cuts. The man posed to be a merchant, but it was a veil for a slave cartel. The stench of stale blood invaded your nose, though it having little affect, you had to swallow to focus again, you were here for a reason after all, and you needed to end that man's crimes today. It could not prolonge any longer, not anymore, not after what you had observed.

The man in question was rather chubby, wore a long brownish robe, and was bald, standing further inside the building, inspecting one of his female slaves. This was your chance. Idling no longer, you proceeded with caution, taking your longsword from its place and eventually sought to jerk it forth with a sharp motion, although, as you had hoped for a painful screech and blood, your sword was blocked by another. You were a few feet away from your target, and you made approach to attack, but giving the fact you were stopped by someone, it annoyed you all the more, considerably so that the slaver ahead was thankfully still unaware of the clash behind him. What perverted thoughts that man must have to be so oblivious to what happened behind him.

Instantly, your senses kicked in, feet spreading, one knee bending slightly to keep balance as you used your accomodating hand to pressure the blade, trying to overmaster the other, but it proved to be a stenuous struggle. Sweatbeads formed over your forehead, your eyes narrowed tightly, and your teeth grinding in frustration. You kept silent, no, you were not one to speak unless neccesary, as even your voice may be cause to validate your identity in the future. The other, however, did not do the same, the man wore white robes, a brown leather belt, and the robe was parted at the front to keep his legs free for amble movement. Damn, you knew exactly what you were dealing with. It was a signature outfit from the Assassins. '' _Tell me why you have come to take my target'',_ he demanded, the voice threatening, making your heart thump even faster inside your chest that was already trying not to be hit by the other's sword as you were pushed back, leaving space between the two of you, though weapons were at ready.

Timid, you gradually began to feel like such, and your thoughts were once again trying to consume your mind, but you stilled, trying to compose yourself and your breathing, panting lowly, you eventually shook your heard. Fighting with an assassin would surely, if not maybe, end up with both nearly dead, and that wasn't the chance you were willing to take. You had tracked this merchant for months, and all of it would be in vain. Instead of proceeding the fight, you simply ran, bashing the assassin aside and moving your sword to impale the merchant who was about to turn around at the little of sound he had taken in. The longsword raked through the layers of clothing, through the tissue of the skin and eventually through the heart that stopped its beating. The man fell to the ground with a heavy thud of impact, causing a light tremor as you pulled the sword out, bending over the man as you looked down at him, your voice a whisper. _''Disgusting'',_ you only were able to articulate as you closed the man's eyes with your digits, offering him rest now his soul was with his gods, if they would take him.

As you turned, another blade was pressing against your chest, forcing you back against the wall as the assassin's stare remained buried into your own eyes. Hitting the wall was painful, but it was cold and gave you an unsettling feeling, but you would not falter now. Victory was at your hand, and no matter what would occur now, you had killed an abomination that could no longer threaten Masyaf, and these slaves would be free to return to their homes after a doctor had attended to them. Amber eyes remained glued onto yours, making you struggle, the sword within your hand still as blood dripped from it, moving onto the floor and creating a small puddle. _''Answer me, or I will leave you no choice''._ The voice certainly had its allure, for a man's voice, naturally, it was distinctive unlike any other voice you had heard, either from man or woman. _''Tell me now! I am running thin on patience''._ Somehow, your lips turned into an amused smile, tilting your head. The little light that shone upon the assassin's features through the window above you, revealing the other's face, now became clear, it was hardly amusing now. This was Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. You had watched him before, seeing him run across the rooftops, taking down guards even when he was one against five, he was impressive. You cleared an apparent thump in your throat, reconsidering your actions, though you remained silent.


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Eagle**_

 _ **Revelations**_

You often experienced painful headaches that would never desist, and they were rather inconsistent aswell, which often make you perturbed, as it made you gather all of your focus and strength when leaping across buildings not to fall down in such a moment. The sting was painfully deep, and your eyes could hardly handle the pressure compelled upon them. Right now, it was unfortunate, it was not called upon, and finding yourself in the situation with one of the most skilled, and most clever assassin that was known, you felt yourself tensing up all throughout your body. As your vision now descended to the ground, your sight became clouded, and you were arduously struggling to erase the black dots that refused to ebb away, instead, the more you tried, the more it fought back. You were trying to steady your breathing, but your heart was beating in a galloppe, trying to burst out of your chest, dropping your sword to the ground as your form sulked.

But you forgot one thing: a blade was pressed against your chest, inbetween your pectolars, just below your clavicle- it had taken a threatening position that made yours imminent, only now you could hope the opponent would see sense, as this seemed more than inane for some, perhaps even believed it was deceit for a surprise attack. Truculent? Perhaps. But this was no act, this was your entire body feeling like it was forcing itself to implode on the spot. The man before you, now having validated his identity, looked as stern, his countenance revealing little amusement in the display he was visualizing. However, the tip of the sword, sharp and cutting edge as it was, slowly retracted as you sank down, the sound of your own sword falling made the master assassin's eyes narrow in suspicion. Being naive could cause such, couldn't it?

The light of the nightsky only shone upon Altaïr, but even he now approached closer, sheathing his sword once again as he found you harmless when you were wurming your way on the ground in a mental battle. Not only the pain consumed your mind and body- but mentally, mentally you were battling memories that surfaced, bits and pieces, however, they were memories you didn't remember, none of them were significant to the events of the past, nor could you explain why they came to you, as you believed they were not yours. Both of your hands elevated to your temples, digits running under your black hood, pressing against your scalp, though in light notice, you made sure the other assassin could not lay his amber eyes on you, not allowing him to peruse your features and memorize them, for you were sure he would never forgot them. Slowly breathing in through your nose, the headache started to fade, gradually so, which you were thankful for.

A voice rang once again, even more demanding, making your ears twitch in acknowledgement. Innately, you slowly lifted yourself up by placing your hands flat against the wall behind you, panting lowly, though being able to breathe without grunting, your eyes landed upon Altaïr's. If you didn't know better, you thought a glare was set on you, and if it could kill, deadly and intimidating as it was seen, you surely would've had the last ounce of life drained from you. Now you were unarmed, as the other presumed, he grabbed the front of your robes and fisted his hand in it, keeping a more firm, secured grip, but you turned your head aside, breathing shallowly. _''Play no games with me, for I will make sure you lose, and that certainly with not be a pleasurable end. Death will dawn upon you''._ Altaïr spat these words with acid, yet confidence, with overwhelming arrogance that entirely overcame his entity. No single smile was seen, not even a smug grin, nothing, only words came from the master assassin.

Somehow, in someway, you were intimidated, but behind his words, you found it ambiguously amusing, even in the oddest of moment, you were one to try and shape words in positive thoughts, or merely defending yourself by using humor, which never was a bad thing, perhaps it was helpful in situations. You were not haughty as Altaïr was, but you were similary confident in your skills, but never had you thought you had to match them with one of such a high rank. You had to speak now, or you were were in risk of dying, and that hardly sounded appealing, did it? At long last, your lips parted, a voice slowly forming: _''I have been tailing this target for many months- keeping check of his dealings, but I never thought it was more than contraband, untill this was revealed, and now, I am all the more satened that he lies dead''._ You spoke without doubt, your words were genuine and most of all, they were candid. You were a vigilante, that is what you had thought yourself to be all these years, and the more thieves and abominations you killed, the more you felt needed to protect your hometown: Masyaf.

Altaïr seemed thoughtful for once, considering your words cautiously, and trying to decipher them even more by figuring out your facial expression, however, once again, you refused him this. Instead, your right knee shot forth in attempt to impact his stomach, which it did, and you breathed in relief as his grip weakened and you moved both hands above you before launching them down on the limb of the other, it succeeding once again as he no longer had a grip upon you, although as you picked up your blade, hastily, an sought to sprint past the man, he already had tackled you down onto your stomach, his wristblade now ejaculated and pressing against your throat that lay somewhat exposed, but your robes even covered those vulnerable parts. You made a move that was not appreciated, infact, it angered the master assassin, you did the exact thing nobody dared to do on him. You coughed lowly at the impact, but you slowly breathed through your nose, in and out, such training, you weren't sure how, but it kicked in, it was maybe innate? You couldn't find any other explanation, not a valid one, atleast, so you only assumed.

Never had you seen it from this close, a wristblade, it was magnificently made, sharp, long, and deadly, able to strike as deep as possible, cutting vital arteries and the like. You saw the lack of finger where the wristblade came from, making you curious to its mechanism, and if it was tradition, or a neccesity to use it. _''How foolish are you to run from me? Are you craving to die by my blade? Is that your wish?''._ Altaïr's words were emanating anger, authority, and most would do well to be frightened, but you weren't, not completely. As you pressed your lips together, trying to think of what you could say without infuriating the other further, Altaïr's crotch rubbed against your rear, it was odd- and you couldn't lay your finger on the lurid sensation, it made you feel things, things you have never felt before. Eventually, you considered your best bet was to speak. _''No'',_ you simply retorted, and you felt Altaïr's chest pressing lightly against your back, leaning in further with his head to yours, his breathing ghostly, barely heard, as if he was not breathing at all. The older man was questioning you, but your lack of answer gave him little to go by. You forced his hand. A light painful cut was beared upon your throat, made through the fabric of your robe as the older male elicited reaction, demanding one. The warm blood streamed down your throat, in a thin line, acknowledging it, you eventually smiled. _''That will mess up my robe. Can you desist ruining it?''._ Altaïr's eyes widened in surprise before another glare cloaked his features, amber eyes burning in agitation. Now you've completely tested him.


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Eagle**_

 _ **Identity**_

The night in Masyaf passed quickly for the citizens within he city, they had their own issues, their own families to attend to, and even hoping they would chave a better day after a night's good rest. None of these men and women were concerned with your situation, nor would they dare intrude upon it, given the fact they would witness something only meant for you and the other assassin alone.

What you have done is highly foolish, however, you couldn't stop finding it amusing, it kept your lips curved into a ghostly smile that was elicited from your own humor. And that type of humor was not appreciated by someone like Altaïr. In a manner, you felt insolent to speak such words to one of the highest ranking assassins alive, but that wouldn't keep you from speaking your mind. Even if having voiced it betrayed the one thing you had to keep to yourself for future safety, but the other compelled it. Now you've found yourself in a rather difficult situation you have to wurm your way out of- which couldn't be that hard, could it? Altaïr should be a reasonable man, no? He lives by certain rules, not hurting the innocents for one, and you are considered to be one, isn't that so? You weren't sure. You remembered little to nothing of your past, and the memories of recent months were the sole thing you were confident about that were actually memories, your memories.

Not to forget, the women were still shackled as you were unable to help them, desperately wanting to call upon a doctor friend of yours to give them the treatment they deserve, and not to mention the corpse a few feet behind you, even if it had just fallen, the blood began to turn stale, and that type of stench was even more prominent. Regardless, another scent infiltrated your nose, and that was the one of the assassin that straddled you, grinding against your rear obliviously as he kept you in his grip, threatingly so. The arrogance that exuded from him could suffocate many, and the man's ego was too big for anyone to handle, and you were questioning if you could. You breathed in, calmly, having steadied it, your form pressing harshly against the ground, still acknowledging the tricklet of blood running down your throat. But your thoughts couldn't be present now, you had to pray at this moment, pray that your vital arteries wouldn't be slashed open by a wristblade. The thought didn't scare you, strangely, you felt comfort in the embrace of death, as you knew nobody that would miss you.

Altaïr's amber eyes were settled upon you with death, glinting with annoyance and burning in unquenched rage. But beyond that, he seemed composed, despite the cocky reflection of humor that was thrown at him, he managed to control himself as he perhaps found some use in you, notably so as he retracted himself from your entity and sheathed his wristblade. Slowly, without even bothering to look at him for consent to get up, you raised yourself to your feet and dusted yourself off. One thing came to mind, Altaïr had several chances to expose your features, and he chose not to. It was an itch- you wanted to know why he didn't take the opportunity, as you were more than sure you would have. But maybe he just lacked the interest. You concluded that was it. As you finally were done with dusting off your black robes, your eyes sharply set onto Altaïr, who was still looking at you like an eagle. The Eagle.

'' _I need to bring you to my master. He will then decide your fate, as I cannot''._ Altaïr's voice rang in the small room, making you inquire as an eyebrow of yours lifted. His master? The master of the assassins? The Grandmaster? You were in for a treat, or perhaps the opposite. You weren't sure if you'd comply or not, but you were more than curious about meeting the famous Grandmaster. Altaïr wasn't one to cease fighting so easily, he was not one to give mercy on one either, so perhaps this was a chance you had to take. _''And why am I to go with you? I have played my part in this, and you have played yours. We part ways and never speak again''._ You nodded firmly, to empower your words, reassuring yourself this is what you wanted, moving over to the fat man's corpse and searching it, for letters, leads, anything, you needed another lead to go by, certainly he didn't catch all of these women all alone, that would be madness. As you digged into some side-pockets, you unraveled a letter you stuffed in the front of your robes, but Altaïr saw everything. Everything. _''I need that letter. Now''._ You smirked, shaking your head and waving a hand dismissively as you got up again, attending to undoing the shackles of the women, trying your hardest not to feel pity for them.

The master assassin on the counterpart stood there, his stare drilling into the back of your head, but it wouldn't stop you from helping these women. _''Not happening, I need it myself, and I am not giving it away after months of work''._ You spoke in return, your voice was determined, but always possessed some jesterly tone to it, one thing that Altaïr voice lacked. You saw things in a different light than the other man, whilst the other man only saw things from a single perspective. After a moment of helping free the women, you told them to stay put, and handed them a herb, a leaf they had to chew on, it would alleviate their pain for now, untill you got the doctor. _''You will give it to me. I am in no mood for others to involve themselves in my matters that are of big importance. Especially for the safety of Masyaf''._ Altaïr's voice, once again, unamused. _''Well, while you were busy glaring, I helped these women. I don't think you care for them at all. You only seem to care for delivering results to your Master''._ You retorted sharply with a hint of distaste. You needed to leave and inform the doctor, but the assassin behind you wouldn't seem to relent so easily, if at all. You seemed to have hit some sensitive strings as Altaïr approached closer, fists clenched. _''Who are you to claim such? You are foolish and know -nothing- about me or my master. Now I will not ask again. You are to come with me, and then your fate will be decided. You are too much of a danger to leave alone''._

You laughed, folding your arms and shifting your weight to your left foot. _''Is that so? Do you want them to die instead? I am getting a doctor, by your consent or not, these women need help. They are dreadfully ill, and dehydrated''._ Altaïr's eyes carefully scanned the women and pursed his lips in submission, wafting a hand. You nodded and left the building. There was one friend, a doctor, who was always ready to help you. You had met the man sometime ago when you saved him from people that tried to demand his services in return for his family, and you got rid of those abominations. As you reached the doctor's house, leaving Altaïr behind still in the building with the slaves, knowing you'd come back, the doctor smiled brightly at you. You both developed a special code, one could say. Three times of knocking on the door, along with a whistle. _''Ah, my friend! It is good to see you again, how are you doing?''._ You dipped your head politely, offering a wide smirk. _''I am fine, Hasma. I am in dire need of your help. Several women were enslaved and they are in deadly poor condition''._ The doctor rubbed his neck and widened his eyes at the news, he immediatly gathered several tools and bottles, everything he needed to travel. _''I'll show you to them. Don't mind the rather..grumpy man we also find there. He doesn't want to leave me alone''._ You patted the doctor's shoulder and guided him back to the remote building, upon entering, Altaïr still stood at the same spot you left him at, now his amber eyes perusing the doctor, although the doctor merely greeted the assassin and attended to the victims.

'' _Are you finished?''_ Altaïr inquired, his mild glare set on you, impatience all over his face as he strolled to the exit, pushing you along forcefully so. He didn't speak along the way to the castle, but he kept track of you as you moved behind. He could feel how silently your feet moved across the ground, how your eyes looked around, carefully, but you were relaxed, very much so. The two of you eventually reached the mountainpath that led upto the castle, it was an intimidating sight, but you had a familiar feeling- had you seen this all before? That is impossible. _''Very fancy. Do you got baths too?''._ You added in amusement, lips pursing, but Altaïr merely shook his head and grunted in dissaproval. Reaching the top, the training grounds were filled with novices training, along with others overseeing the spars. Most of the older assassins dipped their head to you, though their eyes were widened as if they had seen a ghost, and you were feeling strange at the greetings. Did they know you? Nonsense, you had never been here before, and you couldn't even tell who these people were, aside from them being obvious assassins, ofcourse. As you made your way into the big hall, up the side stairs and before Al Mualim's desk, you tilted your head curiously at the figure.

'' _Grandmaster'',_ Altaïr spoke, with a sudden very polite and respectful tone. _''I encountered this man when chasing my target. He killed the target before I could, and he refuses to hand over the letter that was on the target's body'''._ Al Mualim looked outside the big intricate window, hands intertwined before he turned around and his eyes darted from Altaïr to you. Even the Grandmaster's eyes widened in shock before he cleared his throat, calling Altair closer, to which Altaïr looked to you and spoke: _''I must speak to him alone. You may return to the training grounds, but do not leave''._ You wanted to protest, but they ignored your presence and you walked outside to the training grounds, standing above the elevated level to look down upon the men and women sparring, folding your arms over your chest. Somehow, they acknowledged you, and even seemed to try harder to make no mistakes during their spars.

'' _Altaïr. Do you know who this is?''._ Altaïr's lack of knowledge annoyed him, and he shook his head. _''I do not''._ The Grandmaster retrieved a big book with a black covered, with intricate golden lining at the edges as he opened it, dust coming off it with the motion as he read through some pages. _''This is (y/n). He dissapeared many years ago after he was sent to retrieve an artifact. He was my second hand''._ Altaïr's eyes narrowed, looking incredulous. _''Him? He does not even remember this place, and he was not giving me his name either. Are you certain that this is him?''._ Al Mualim nodded sternly. _''Ofcourse I am, child. I may be old, but I know who I made my second hand''._


	4. Chapter 4

_**The Eagle**_

 _ **Initiation**_

This was all very confusing for you. It wasn't what you had expected to happen when you were doing your good deeds for the day. But you couldn't say you weren't surprised either. In the past year you had been doing this out of habit. It felt satisfying and it made you happy. And this kind of feeling, it made you thankful that you managed to survive so far - to have been able to help the city you cared so much for, and especially its people that had no idea you were the reason that there were less and less deaths in Masyaf.

And out of nowhere, you even managed to run into one of the strongest assassin that also had taken the duty of protecting the city. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was someone you had a hard time to read: his expression didn't reveal much, and his eyes always were guarded. Someone told you once before: eyes are the window to the soul. But with him, you couldn't look into his soul, he never left a chance for anyone to look into his soul, and you wondered why he had to be like that. So arrogant, so guarded.

You weren't in a position to judge. You met him only once.

You silently watched the training ring and the novices that were sparring with one another. Most of the attention that had been directed to you had been averted back to the novices out of importance. Afterall, their safety was a priority when they had been told to train. And knowing their lack of experience, they could as easily harm each other in the blink of an eye.

This place felt so familiar, yet you couldn't place it in your head. You've only ever had seen it from the outside, and while the architecture was impressive, you never had the thought of approaching the castle itself. That would be dangerous.

It was not long before you heard footsteps approach in your direction. They weren't loud, nor were they trying to be silent. There was a natural grace to them, as if it were innate. Like a beast approaching its prey in the comfort of night.

''You.'' Altaïr spoke as he came to a halt just behind you. His amber eyes were like two orbs of light that shone in the late evening as his arms folded and his stern expression set in, as per usual. What a prick. As you turned around, you looked over at the man and you tilted your head in anticipation. Whatever he was going to say, you didn't feel like it was going to be very promising.

''The Grandmaster has made a decision.'' He said in a tone that was devoid of emotion. You couldn't tell if he was happy, angry or annoyed by the Grandmaster's decision. And at that moment, your eyes narrowed slightly at what the decision had become. You felt slightly nervous. This was _the Grandmaster._ He had the title for a reason, and you weren't going to doubt its credibility. After a prolonged moment of silence and being stared at by Altaïr, he spoke once more. ''Regarding the risk of having you roam around without guidance, he has decided that you'll be taken in by the Assassins to start your training. You will go through training and trial, beginning as a novice.''

 _What?_

Did he really say this? You, out of all people, were going to join the Assassins and _become_ one of them? You cleared your throat as your eyes carefully scanned Altaïr's expression that remained distant and guarded. He wasn't going to let on on how he felt about this situation. He probably thought that it would only amuse you more, as you had only mocked him so far.

''I see..- I suppose I can't object to that, then. I wouldn't want to have you all chasing me.'' Your eyes glinted and your lips tugged into a grin that was common on your features. You needed and wanted to see the humor in all of this. If you were going to make enemies, the Assassins were the last people you wanted to fight, especially knowing their numbers. You wouldn't be able to hide forever, they would find you, and kill you. So, what damage can some help do, right?

Altaïr had an expression that hinted slight annoyance at how cheery you were about this. You couldn't even take this situation seriously. ''Enough of your jokes. I will show you your room inside the castle, and you will start training in the morning.'' He briefly looked over to the training novices ahead that were _supposed_ to be training, but they had stopped to look between the interaction of you and Altaïr. That hadn't pleased the assassin.

The man walked to the edge of the ledge and looked down at the novices with a mild glare. Between the course of five seconds, they all had dipped their heads respectively and resumed their training with more nerves than before. He eventually turned to you again.

''You will be given a new robe, as yours do not…'' Altaïr trailed off and silence took over once again. He approached you closer, leaving little space between the two of you. His amber eyes scrutinized your robes and its design, looking over the craftsmanship and the reinforced padding. You peered at him with a grin, masking your nerves. ''What? Are you impressed by my robes?''

The master assassin took a moment to resume his inspection and eventually shook his head. Like he would ever give you the feeling of satisfaction by complimenting your attire.

You stood there, your nerves trying to take control of you, but you kept yourself composed. It wasn't everyday that one of high rank was inspecting the gear _you_ had crafted yourself. Well, thanks to your father, really. He had taught you most of it. You were grateful for it all.

''Follow me, novice.'' He expected you to follow, and you did. As you followed behind, the other assassins that were present inside the castle had their eyes on you already, offering the same looks the assassins outside had given you. You felt like you were judged by everyone, and so you avoided eye-contact and lowered your head. You couldn't smile at them. You were pretty sure that smiling at them would create some reason for them to dislike you even more. After all, most times you had smiled at someone, it was interpreted as mockery.

The scent in the castle was so strange. You couldn't quite place it. It felt familiar, but it also felt like it was a mixture of all the men and women that had been trained here in the past couple years. You were so engrossed in looking around, you hadn't even noted that Altaïr had stopped before you and you basically _stumbled_ into _him_ on accident. That also presented you with another glare from the man by your stupidity. He promptly shoved you back with a hand and gestured with his head to his left.

He was standing before a door that was one amongst many in the hallway, probably being the quarters were the assassins slept. He pushed the door open and walked inside before you followed put. You briefly inspected the bed on the left side of the room, its headboard was set against wall, and a small window on the left side of it gave some light that shone on the desk below, and aside of that was a big wardrobe for your equipment and casual clothing. You nodded happily. This was better than were you had slept before. Actually, it was a big improvement. You couldn't contain your excitement, but you still wondered about something. ''Uh. Who'll be training me?''

You walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, your fingers feeling the fabric of the sheets and your eyes wandering back to the master assassin who was now stood at the door opening. ''I was assigned to train you. Your new robes will be delivered to you later tonight. And there is a library not far from here. I'm sure you've seen it when we walked inside.'' You once again nodded to confirm and you gave him a wide smile. You never thought that he would be training you. ''I need your weapons.''

Your brows knitted briefly as he looked at you, expectantly. You looked down at your longsword and the shorter blade that was sheathed to your waist by two scabbard and the unseen amount of throwing knives you had stashed god-knows-where. ''Yes. Those.'' Altaïr added, finding some amusement in mocking you this time. Ofcourse you knew which weapons he meant! Reluctantly, you took the scabbards and held them out to the man, then you started to take out an amount of exactly twenty throwing knives you had hidden in your boots, belt and gloves. The other looked surprised for a moment, but he didn't say why. Eventually, some moments later, he regarded you with a stare. ''Prepare yourself. This will not be easy.''

He left after that, and you lied back on your bed, looking towards the light that came from the window. Your mind wandered and sleep consumed you.


	5. Chapter 5

_**The Eagle**_

 _ **Training**_

The next morning, you were awoken by a rather odd sight. Your eyes squinted and you tried to bring some clarity to your vision as you pushed up on your elbows, your eyes narrowing.

It didn't take long before your realized that Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was standing next to your bed. His hood was on as always, and his amber eyes were staring at you without a care. That obviously meant, as you thought, he doesn't care if _you_ minded he was in _your_ room.

You groaned as you weren't a morning person. You hated mornings, and when you looked at the window, you could see it was a very, _very_ early morning. The fact he was here put you in some state of dismay - you weren't sure of how long he had been here, and you wondered if he even had watched you sleep. You rubbed your eyes with a hand and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed and offering him the same, emotionless stare. Anyone wise enough wouldn't piss you off when it was morning, and even though Altaïr was wise, he probably didn't care.

 _Ofcourse he didn't care._

That look on his face. Such a smug, defiant one. His amber eyes were practically taunting you to release your complaints on him because he got into your room without consent. _Your consent._ Eventually you decided to give in, allowing him to bask in his victory for aslong as it lasted. ''Do you lack the common decency to knock on a door, or are you just doing this on purpose?''You said dryly, your tone sarcastic as you arched your back and pushed up. You had completely forgotten about your new robes, and you were still wearing the old ones you made. On your table was a heap of armor, likely the new robe that was going to be delivered later in the night.

Altaïr folded his arms at your sarcasm.

 _That was last night._

You sighed deeply. Someone else also got into your room, delivered the robes, and left again. And you didn't even notice because you had fallen asleep. Altaïr looked from your robe to the new robe on your table and shook his head again. ''Get dressed, eat and meet me outside in the training ring in ten minutes, novice. You need your energy.'' You nodded and grumbled quietly as you moved to your new robes. You started to undress before noticing that Altaïr didn't close the door behind him. Your blood started to boil. ''He can't even close a door.'' You muttered as you closed it and resumed to undress. You put the black robes in a small chest in your wardrobe and locked with a key. That key you also hid.

When you got into your new robes, it felt uncomfortable and strange. They were different.

It had no memories. But you were sure that these new robes would be filled with plenty of them if you were going to be trained by no one other than Altaïr. Your personalities clashed and collided. For one, he was too serious and arrogant, and you were the exact opposite. It was going to be fun to provoke him at times while he was training you. He wasn't the nicest person around, that's for sure.

When you got to hall where everyone was eating, you silently sat down at the table and dipped your head to everyone present. The girl opposite of you was looking at you with a soft smile, dipping her head politely in return. Some of the others, though, were giving you strange looks again and you contained yourself to say something about it. _''_ Sorry, but I don't think we've met before. I'm Amala.'' The girl nodded again as she looked at you with a soft smile.

You helped yourself to a piece of bread and other Arabian food that was on the table for breakfast. It seemed it was common to be up this early for them. Maybe Altaïr didn't wake you _that_ early. ''I'm y/n. I had a run-in with Altaïr yesterday and they decided to train me here.'' She looked a little ataken back by your answer. Her eyes darted to the others present at the table who weren't hiding the fact they were listening to your conversation. She spoke once again as she looked at you. ''I see. Knowing Altaïr, you shouldn't let him wait.'' She gestured to how slow you were eating, and you narrowed your eyes. ''Well, maybe he should wait. He's not the nicest person around.'' She managed a broad smile before she composed herself and shook her head in amusement. ''He's not, but if he is training you, he can let you do _anything_ he wants.''

You gulped.

She was right. He could let you run fifty laps around Masyaf and then demand even more. You eventually stood up, stuffed your mouth with bread and made way to the exit.

When you arrived at the training ring, Altaïr was standing ready. You couldn't determine if he was angry or annoyed, but he always seemed to be either, for one way or another. ''Novice.'' He said to you as he gestured with a hand for you to come closer. ''I'll be doing things differently. Seeing as we've fought before, we can do so again. I want to see what you're made of, and from that assessment, I'll know what can be improved.'' He handed you a blade, which you weighted in your hand and adjusted your grip on the hilt of it.

When you looked back at Altaïr, he was already coming at you with speed. His own blade swung at you in a vertical slash and you instantly spread your feet for balance, knees bending slightly and your left hand on the edge of the blade to counter the attack from the assassin. Your eyes narrowed and your heart thumped in your chest as your blade collided with the assassin's. The steel making an eery noise as many people gathered around to watch.

Eventually, after a few seconds of trying to gain some strength, you merely stepped to the side as you felt that Altaïr was recklessly using all his power. Within that momentum, he almost tumbled over into thin air and you managed to follow up with a kick in his calve. You kept yourself composed and your blade was held at waist height, bracing yourself. Altaïr, however, steadied himself from the loss of balance rather quickly. His eyes were burning and his motivation had never been bigger.

With this, you decided to attack yourself, and as your blade swung sideways and upwards to the other, the other was a step ahead of you. As soon as it came up, he managed to grab your wrist, forcing enough pressure on your veins to release the blade, which happened. But you wouldn't stop, no. In this position, you offered him a grin as you promptly elbowed him in the stomach, which made him stumble back again, gasping for air. ''Give up. You cannot win.''

While you were without weaponry, you felt confident enough to take him on. You beamed a smile at him and shook your head. ''You'd be surprised at how quick tides can turn.'' Altaïr came close once again, his lips thinned in annoyance and his rage was evident. He didn't like how you played with him, especially not when you were _laughing_ at him infront of everyone. The man brought down the sword on you with both his hand and you barely managed to keep the blade from piercing your skin. Instead, it was caught between your hands. Your gloves managed to keep it from making your skin bleed, but you felt it wasn't going to last for long. More pressured was added, and when Altaïr added more force, you once again pushed the blade to the side and disarmed him. The blade thumped on the ground and the people who were watching widened their eyes and held their breath.

Your hands were both bleeding from the sudden pressure you added, and while the adrenaline kept the pain from being realized, you kept on fighting. You won't give up.

As Altaïr now was without a blade himself, he glared at you. Had he almost been beaten by a novice? You thought that was funny. Maybe he's not _that good._ ''Maybe you should give up, Altaïr.'' You said to him, laughing to yourself. With this, he launched at you, and in the moment of distraction, your back hit the dusty, hard ground and he landed several punches in your face in a fit of anger. Your vision started to dot black and blood started to come from your nose and lips, alongside several bruises. You managed to catch both his fists with your own as you pressed them back, a spark inside yourself was lit and it gave you energy.

''Give up, novice!'' He yelled at you, but you weren't going to. You would never give up.

You pushed his fists back, and he pushed his own forth. After moments of struggle, you realized he had straddled you, not that that mattered, well, it did, since you couldn't use your legs now, but it felt strange. Was this how he always was to the people he trained?

''Never!'' You spoke in return as you looked at him, though, there was no hatred for him. No anger. No annoyance.

 _Nothing._

''Altaïr, enough! Let the novice go.'' A voice spoke closeby. It was only shortly after that blood dripped into your eyes and you felt dizzy. Weight was lifted from you and you felt relieved as you looked to a man you didn't know. ''You're supposed to train him, Altaïr. Not kill him.''

The man with a grey hood walked towards you and offered you a hand. ''I'm Kadar. Worry not, we all know that Altaïr can be rather...impulsive at times. You should..-''

And with that, you felt your head ache and you lost consciousness.


End file.
